


Slash Fiction/I'm Not Your Brother

by tarnishedxhalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, Dirty Talk, Dub con near the end there, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest, sort of, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarnishedxhalo/pseuds/tarnishedxhalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had thought it would be a normal afternoon. But Dean[Or what he thinks is Dean] had some other plans. Surprisingly, Sam doesn't really find this too much of a problem...at first.</p><p>[Based loosely off the Slash Fiction 7x06 promo.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slash Fiction/I'm Not Your Brother

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before 7x06, when everyone was trying to guess what would happen on the next episode based on the promo.  
> Originally posted on Tumblr; unbeta'd.

Sam was standing at the sink washing dishes when the door to the motel slammed closed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Dean framed in the doorway. The lock clicked. Sam turned back around and frowned at the soapy plate thoughtfully. Dean didn’t _usually_ lock the door. But they weren’t really sure what they were dealing with in this job yet, maybe he was just taking precautions. It’s not like Dean talked to him much anymore anyway.

"So, find anything new?’ He asked, rinsing off the last plate, placing it aside. The motel had real plates this time, and part of a kitchen. He'd taken advantage this time. "Not really." Answered Dean in his usual gruff way, and Sam continued to rinse his hands, flipping off the taps and picking up a dishcloth. He'd been thinking about headway to his research when Dean’s arms wrapped around Sam’s middle. Sam started in surprise. He hadn't heard the other approach. Odd, but he also hadn't been paying attention. "Dean?" Dean turned Sam around and pressed a hand into his chest, the small of Sam's back against the edge of the counter. "Shh. I know we haven’t been on the best of terms. But no talking." Dean reached up and pulled Sam down into a passionate kiss, his hands fisting in the front of the soft blue plaid shirt covering the younger Winchester's chest.

Sam, shocked, tried to push Dean away for a minute, gasping in surprise against his lips. "Dean..?" His words were muffled, but his hands paused the moment his mouth opened and Dean took advantage, sliding his tongue past his lips and playing them together. Sam could say it was surprise that made him clench his fists against Dean's arms, but he'd be lying. His eyes closed as Dean stoked fires Sam hadn’t previously known was there. He groaned faintly and pressed into the kiss, tongues twining together. Hell, it was just a kiss right? And it'd been so long since he'd bothered kissing anyone. He loved Dean right? So if he was going to kiss anyone it should be someone he loved. Half-baked excuses, but with Dean moaning in response and starting to press closer into his chest it was hard to reason with himself. Chests brushing, hips meeting, and Sam could already feel Dean’s erection pressing against his own burgeoning one. If he whimpered he wasn't going to admit it.

Dean’s hands grabbed Sam’s hips and pinned them still against the counter, grinding together roughly, his fingers twisted in Sam’s belt loops. Sam couldn’t help but raise one leg and pull Dean even closer, the angle sinking his big brother's hips further, right where he wanted him. His fingers moved to the back of Dean’s neck, brushing over the slight scratch of hair against his fingertips. His moan must have been encouragement, because the next thing he knew Dean’s fingers ripped at Sam’s shirt, buttons popping and scattering on the floor. He leaned down and tongued Sam’s tattoo, hands roaming over his stomach and abs. Sam bit his lip, his stomach tensing gently under Dean's warm fingers and his own stuttered breaths. Was it hot in here? He felt hot in here.

Instead of saying this however, Sam merely gasped for air, hands fisting in Dean’s hair, on his shoulders, anywhere he could reach. Dean’s mouth found a nipple and sucked, hands coasting over the hard ridges of Sam’s hipbones, tracing along the waistband of his jeans, riding low from the friction. Sam writhed under Dean’s caress, moaning his name. His hips bucked without his consent, seeking friction against his hips, his mouth, it didn't matter. His earlier thoughts about excuses fell by the wayside. He was confused, he was shocked and worried. _He was horny as fuck._ He’d never been this hot before, not for anyone else. What was Dean doing to him, he wasn't supposed to be liking this. He gasped when Dean licked a hot trail to his other nipple, fingers sliding just below the waistband, a bare inch from the hard heat pushing at his zipper. Sam whimpered, thoughts melting under Dean's tongue, hot suction. Figures he'd know exactly the way he was sensitive there, exactly how to do it to make him shiver and mewl, shirt falling off his shoulders. "Dean…" Hips shifted, trying to achieve some contact, any contact, with his brother’s fingers. 

Dean, rather than doing what he wanted- mainly, stuff his hand down the front of his pants and keep licking at him; dropped to his knees before Sam, mouthing a wet trail down his chest and biting at his abs with a small, playful growling noise before unbuttoning his jeans. Sam was flushed, eyes wide and dark. That pink tint only got worse when Dean unzipped his jeans with his teeth. Sam's hands reached back and clutched at the sink behind him as he looked down at Dean, swollen lips parted. Dean jerked down Sam’s jeans and boxers roughly, letting the fabric pool at his ankles. His cock was almost embarrassingly hard, and if Sam hadn't been entirely lust-driven right now he probably would have protested. Then again, he probably should have protested when this whole thing started. But then Dean was taking him in hand, licking his lips, and running a hand up his length, and Sam's vague idea of protests seemed far away and ridiculous.

Dean groaned under his breath, something about Sam looking delicious before giving a teasing lick. Needless to say, Sam’s knees nearly gave out. If Dean didn’t start….he did. Dean opened those lips wide and sucked Sam right into his throat, his hands gripping his ass away from the sink. Sam cried out out, knuckles blanching on the porcelain, his head thrown back. _Dean, Jesus..._  How was Dean so good at this, it should be illegal. Sam bit his lips and muffled his rather pathetic noises, eyes rolling back as Dean bobbed his head, tongue dragging along his skin, making small satisfied groans in his throat that Sam could feel against the tip of his cock. He tried to gasp for air, eyes squinted shut. His entire frame was on fire, ass clenching around his brother’s fingers. Sam only really noticed how startlingly deep they were when he found himself wishing Dean would move his fingers inward an inch or two, so they would brush against his entrance, sink inside while the sucking heat encompassed his dick. Just thinking about it had his muscles tightening, tension building. “Dean, ohh..I’m gonna..”

Dean pulled himself off of Sam with a wet sound, and he groaned in disappointment. _No fair._ Dean got to his feet with a predatory look and kissed Sam, brief and hard while he panted against the sink. When Dean broke away it was with a mischievous grin. Sam wasn't really in any mood to be teased at, not practically naked and denied being able to come down his brother's throat at the last minute. He growled and pushed Dean back onto the only full-sized table in the room. It only had two chairs, considering it was supposed to be a dining table(and one fell backwards to the floor from Dean landing on the table), but it didn't really matter, considering Dean collapsed backwards on it and Sam had the opportunity to tug his clothes off, reach down to tug off Dean's shirt.

He chucked it onto the floor carelessly, eyes tracing down bared chest and catching on his waistband, the obvious outline of his cock under the denim. Sam reached down, drew a hand over Dean's zipper with a needy sound ebbing out between his rough panting. Dean moaned, back curving off the wood and hips pressing into Sam's rough caresses. Sam ran his free hand up Dean’s chest and back down, reveling in the fact the was able to touch him however he pleased. Sam was about to go ahead and unbutton Dean’s jeans, climb up onto the table and buck on top of the other until the table broke when Dean’s eyes popped open, green piercing. He wrenched up off the table, dislodging Sam and flailing him backwards, off-balance from so sudden a movement, limbs slow.  
Dean urged him to the bed and pushed him down harshly, spinning Sam so he landed on his stomach with an “Oof”.

Immediately Dean pulled Sam onto all fours, pressed himself against Sam's ass. He groaned, hips futility grinding against Dean’s denim-clad cock, knowing the tip was peeking out of the waistband, hard and shiny, begging for his mouth. Right where he left it waiting for him. Sam let out a small pathetic noise into the sheets at the mental image. He was beyond worrying if this was right or wrong anymore, he just wanted. he _needed._  Sam heard a belt buckle unfasten and a zipper through his harsh breathing. He shivered, knees spreading farther, arching his back in preparation. He'd done this before...once or twice, in his rebellious stage. He knew what to do. Anticipation built to an almost painful degree before Dean was rubbing against him, skin to skin. _Finally._ Sam moaned, fingers curling in the sheets and hips rocking backwards into Dean. "In Dean, please, in..." He panted, shifting restlessly against the mattress.

Dean left him again, and Sam was nearly worried he had changed his mind, he'd done this all as some cruel prank, when he felt Dean’s tongue against his entrance. He yelped and bucked. It was a surprise, he'd never done this before, he wasn't sure how he felt. Sam squirmed, not sure if he wanted to get away or closer. It was so good, it was so wrong, but  _oh god it was so good._ His nails scratched the sheets; Dean’s hot tongue swirled and probed. Sam fisted his hands in his own hair and made carnal noises into the mattress, muscles jumping whenever Dean's breath fanned over his most private spot. Even he didn’t know if the noises he made were human. He was losing his mind, his cock was weeping, his brother was doing dirty things to him. The world was falling apart. A finger prodded and he changed his mind.  _He_  was falling apart.

Dean sunk a finger into him slowly, growling, grinding himself against the back of Sam’s thigh. He wasn’t sure if he could wait anymore. Already his thoughts were a reel of _Dean, Dean, Please, Dean._ He shoved another finger in slick from his licks. Weather he'd lubed up his fingers wasn't something he concerned himself with, though later he'd find out yes, he had, he just hadn't been paying attention. Sam yelled out one minute and groaned the next, pressing against his hand with a gasp. If he'd known Dean wanted this he might have done it earlier, just for the way his skin shivered when Dean twisted a third finger into his hole. The muscles in his back clenched and rippled under lightly scarred skin, marked from years of bruises and cuts and stitches. Dean scissored his fingers, and Sam yelled, writhing. “Dean…please.” He moaned, trembling. Dean didn't answer, but he did pull his fingers out, position himself by jerking Sam’s hips closer. Sam eagerly moved with him, muttering words of encouragement against the cotton, breathing shallow and fast. “Oh Dean, yes, finally, come on, just do it, please, god, Dean  _just do it.”_

Dean thrust into Sam, both of them calling out into the motel room. Sam’s knuckles were as white as the sheets curled hard in the linens. He bit his lip his hair in disarray. Dean held into Sam’s hips and thrust harshly, grunts leaving him with every rough inward push, green eyes lowered to watch himself sink again and again into the other. Sam’s muttered encouragements increased in volume and soon he was shouting, head back. “Dean, Yes, Fuck, that’s so fucking good, Yes Dean, so good. More. MORE. **MORE. _Please!”_**   Dean’s fingers scraped down Sam’s back, red lines in their wake, and latched into Sam’s shoulders, pumping hard, the slap of skin in skin echoing in the room. Dean growled into Sam's ear with every thrust now, his muttering joining Sam’s pleas.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you you little fucking slut. Tell me what you want. You want my cock, huh? Take it like you were fucking made to, you love me fucking you don't you? Yeah, you’re such a little cockslut for me.” Dean leaned down and bit at Sam’s spine, hips rough and hard. Sam’s back arched into his mouth and he gasped, one hand snaking down between him and the blankets and wrapping a fist around himself. It didn't take much, three rough strokes of his hand and his deep groan turned to a loud yell, and he spent himself on the sheets, clenching around the still moving Dean. His muscles tensed, Sam shuttering with pleasure. His arms gave out, and he collapsed on the bed a second before Dean was giving a strangled moan, spurting into Sam with rough jerks. Sam let out a small moan at the sensation, warm and wet inside him. Dean pulled out and sprawled beside Sam on the soiled sheets.

There was a minute of ecstasy-infused silence, both of them depleted before Dean gave a weak chuckle. “Oh, by the way Sam?” Sam looked over at Dean, watching him gaze at him from the opposite pillow, the white framing Dean’s face. He smiled, sated. Maybe they'd be on better terms now. And do that again. “Yeah Dean?” He said softly, eyes lidded. Dean grinned, his eyes flashed unnaturally. “I’m not your brother.”


End file.
